Chapter three:

Rebecca just happens to live here!


Greg is grumpy.

This stems mostly from the long flight, where he sits sandwiched between a fat, snoring man with hygiene problems, and a fidgeting, nervous college girl who is pounding cocktail after cocktail.

"I'm going to Hollywood to meet this guy who says he has a hook-up for me in show biz," she slurs at him at one point, her breath reeking of Fireball Whiskey. He ignores the fact that he hates the term 'show-biz' and Fireball (get some real whiskey, you amateurs!), but he is so on edge he actually daydreams about shoving his tongue down her throat just to get a taste of that sweet, sweet liquid courage.

But he doesn't, of course.

She isn't his type anyway. Not to mention, watching her get sloppier and sloppier as the 6-hour flight progresses just reminds him why he is sober.

Yet for grumpy as he feels right now, he also feels stronger than he did a few days ago.

After he'd found a reasonable ticket to California (Delta, not Southwest. He's still banned from Southwest… indefinitely), he went to the school to take a leave of absence for a "family emergency."

He sort of felt guilty lying, but he does have a sick dad. And he is already ahead in all of his courses. His academics counselor granted him the leave and allowed him to work remotely, a sort of independent study as long as his professors signed off on it - they did.

But when asked how long he would be gone, he kept it open-ended. He isn't sure how long he'll be here, but he plans on making it home well before finals in a few weeks.

They (finally) land, and it only takes one step out of the stale, recycled airplane air for Greg to remember how dry and sweltering and unforgiving the southern California heat is. He hasn't even left the airport yet and he already misses the hot, summer rain in Georgia.

There are many people standing around, holding signs, hugging and kissing and welcoming people from their flights.

But no one for him.

That's not a shock - he didn't call anyone to let them know he was coming back and it feels strange, being here without anyone knowing yet. If he had a FaceSpace - or whatever the hell it's called - he might have updated his status like a typical, college dude might: Impromptu SoCal adventure! See you all soon!

But, no. That's never been him, and it certainly isn't now.

He hails a cab and it pulls right up to the sidewalk. He pulls the door open, throwing his duffle bag in before himself, and then sliding into the back seat. He pulls out his cellphone and takes a deep breath - time to let them know he's in town.

"Where to?" the cabbie asks in his thick, indiscernible accent. He utters the two words he never thought he'd say again: "West Covina."


The moment Greg walks into Home Base is when it finally starts to hit him that he's back. The smell of the bar sends him toppling headfirst into instant nostalgia, and it tugs on his heart ever-so-slightly. He looks down at his phone, still not entirely confident that this was the right move. He just knows that before he even thinks about seeing Rebecca (which, to be honest, he still isn't totally sure he has the stomach to do it), he has to clear a few things up first.

Before he can even get a good look around the bar, someone hurls themselves into him, wrapping him in a bear hug.

"Whoa," Greg wheezes, the air gets knocked from his chest.

"Welcome back, buddy!" Josh says excitedly, pulling away but giving him a few extra, residual pats on the back. He smiles that wide, trademark Chan grin and it's hard not to reciprocate, regardless of all that has happened between the two.

"I knew you couldn't stay away forever!" Josh shakes his head in disbelief, "I just can't believe you're back-"

"Ah, bup, bup, bup, bup!" Greg tsks, holding a hand up and halting a very confused Chan before he can even finish the thought. "Just a visit," he clarifies. "I'm not staying."

"Sure, yeah, right. Of course," Josh nods along, but then takes a moment to think and asks, "so… why are you back?"

Greg's mouth falls open, his eyes wide as he gives a shrug. He shakes his head innocently, "you know... Just to check on my dad. Visit some friends. I'm way ahead in my studies, thought enough time had passed-"

"Isn't your dad on that senior singles cruise?" Josh wonders, and Greg almost laughs it off until his stomach drops. His alibi is shot - this is the week his dad was going to be cruising to Mexico with a bunch of single, elderly people. And how did Josh even know that?

"You talk to my dad?"

"Every Thursday," Josh answers, earnestly - as though that's the most normal thing in the world.

Greg makes a face, eyeing his friend, "That's…. really weird."

Josh ignores him and winces, almost painfully, "You're not… here because of Rebecca, right?"

"What? Pshh… no," Greg scoffs, but then he finds himself leaning in. He wants to know more. The two long-lost friends climb into a booth nearby as he wonders, "Wh-wh-why… why would you ask that?"

"Well, you heard about what happened, right?" Josh replies, hesitantly.

"...Vaguely," is all Greg can bring himself to say. He watches as Josh's shoulders slump as his smile fades.

"It's all my fault," he sighs, dejectedly. "Things… didn't end well between us."

Ah, yes. Greg had heard all about Josh leaving Rebecca at the altar. He couldn't say he'd been surprised at the time - Josh had a hard enough time committing to Valencia, and then BAM! He was engaged to another woman so fast. To Greg, the fact that Rebecca and Josh were sprinting to the altar was a sign that they were trying to lock it all down before it inevitably fell apart.

"I think that's a bit of an understatement, don't you?" Greg wonders, cocking an eyebrow.

"She used to talk about you a lot, you know…" Josh goes on, and that makes Greg's heart feel both fuller and emptier, somehow. To know she never forgot about him, even after she got everything she'd ever wanted-

"So?" he spits out uncaringly, crossing his arms over his chest like a sulky child. "Who cares? I don't…"

Josh just leers back at him in a way only Josh Chan can - he knows him. He sees through him.

He always has.

"I... think you care a little more than you want to admit, Serrano."

Greg wants to tell him that's not true, but what's the point? He rolls his shoulders, trying to keep his head from rolling back. This is exhausting already.

"Okay, just… can we talk about something else? I'm not here because of Rebecca."

"Well, good. They won't let you in anyway," Josh explains, shaking his head somberly. "Believe me, I tried. They have her on lockdown and no one is getting past Paula."

Greg all but rolls his eyes at the thought alone - he remembers too well just how (weirdly) protective Paula can be of Rebecca, but at the same time, he's glad she has someone like that in her corner. The world can be a hard place for people like Rebecca, even if she brings a lot of it onto herself.

"Well, that hasn't changed," Greg comments. He is finding that even though it stings to speak of Rebecca - and certainly to Josh of all people - it also feels oddly freeing. And although he literally just requested to talk about something else, he goes on to ask, "but… Is she okay? How did this happen?"

Josh's hands come up to rest on the table, nervously fidgeting.

"I mean, I guess she's going to be okay. She sorta lost it there, started acting really erratic-"

"Well, that's Rebecca for you-"

"No," Josh interrupts, shaking his head. His voice cracks, "no, not this time. We all know Rebecca can be a little bit unstable, but never anything like this before. I thought she was going to hurt my mom."

"...Jesus," Greg utters under his breath. He shakes his head quickly, "but I mean, Rebecca wouldn't do something like that-"

"I'm not so sure. She really lost it."

"Was it really that bad?"

"It was pretty bad," Josh admits. "I just… I feel bad. The last thing I said to her was that I wanted her out of my life. I can't help but feel… like…" Greg knows what Josh is trying to say, but he shakes his head at his friend.

"It wasn't your fault, Josh. It wasn't anyone's fault. Rebecca has her demons, sure. Believe me, I feel just as guilty. I can't help but feel like I could have done more," Greg admits.

"You… you really loved her, didn't you?" Josh asks after a long moment. And Greg's mouth drops open to answer, but nothing comes out at first. He wants to say yes, but admitting it aloud felts like it might make his heart explode.

Oh well. What's the use of holding back now?

"Compared to how I felt about Rebecca," he begins slowly, unsure how exactly to explain just what sort of Rebecca-shaped hole she'd left in his heart, "I realize now that... I'm not sure I've ever even loved anyone else."

"Wait… really?" Josh looks taken aback, and somehow even guiltier than before.

Even though it hurts to say it, it also feels good. Like reaching an itch that desperately needs to be scratched, "Yeah. I felt so much, all at once. I-I couldn't sort it, you know? When I first met Rebecca, I really hated myself. Which is why I think I wanted to be with her. It was like I was using her to punish myself. Loving someone who could never love me back… at least, not the way I wanted her to..." He sucks in a sharp breath, leaning back in his seat. He tries to keep the bitterness from creeping up into his throat as he says, "The way she loved you."

Josh says nothing, just nods somberly. Greg leans forward on his elbows on the table, "Look," he sighs - apparently, he's had a lot bottled up about this. And apparently, he needs to get it all off his chest. "I know things were messy a-and tense and unhealthy between us - between all of us - but… when things were good with Rebecca and she actually chose me… it didn't feel like a punishment anymore. I pictured the rest of my life with her. And I think I saw that the moment she walked in here…" Greg's gaze casts over to the empty barstool she once sat in across from him, looking for someone else.

Looking for Josh.

Greg's voice shakes as he says, "I don't regret leaving for Emory. It was the best decision I've ever made. But not a day goes by that I don't think about leaving her there at that airport. I had to do it - I had to save myself - save both of us. And I thought I was doing the best thing for me and for her. But while it was the best thing I've ever done, leaving her when I loved her as much as I did, was the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life."

"Whoa," Josh breathes, looking a little bit dumbfounded by everything that Greg just admitted. "I never knew…"

"I mean, it's not like I have to explain this to you," he chuckles without humor. "You loved her, too. So, you get it."

"Not like that," Josh confesses, his face slightly red. He looks a little bit choked up, "I thought Rebecca was great. And sure, I loved her. But…"

"But?"

"I never loved her like you loved her, Greg. And… and I'm really sorry, you know? That I got in the way of that."

Greg smiles, no teeth, but certainly genuine. He shakes his head, "for what it's worth… I'm pretty sure Rebecca and I got in our own way, if you know what I mean…"

"Well, I certainly didn't help." Greg wants to tell him that's not true but… well, Josh did sort of get in the way. However, he couldn't have gotten in the way if Greg hadn't been such a mess at Jayma's wedding. Everyone had their role to play in this, and he was just relieved that his shoulders were lighter having gotten the chance to really talk to Josh about all of this.

The waitress finally arrives and they each get a drink - a beer for Josh and a soda water for Greg. He is happy how easy it is to not want to order a beer. That longing he'd felt on the plane, the longing that still lingered when he came into Home Base, had subsided.

"I promise, I won't ever get in the way of you and Rebecca again," Josh promises, holding a hand up as though he's under oath. "If you are here to get her back, then-"

"Thanks for the thought," Greg interrupts before Josh can even get the full sentence out. There's too much empty hope in thoughts like that. "But that's sort of a non-issue, now. Rebecca and I are done. For good."


Greg sticks white the hotel room keycard into the door slot. It gives off a small, approving beep! and an accompanying green light. He flips on the light, stepping into the overly air-conditioned room 306. Not that he's complaining - it's a relief from the 103-degree weather outside.

The first thing he sees when he shuts the door is a big, framed notice on the back of his hotel room door: 'You've made the right choice! Welcome to West Covina!'

It's just a normal ad for the hotel - the Days Inn logo is under it. But the phrasing makes him sigh and shake his head, instantly reminded of all the 'signs' he'd seen back in Georgia before he'd decided to come here. He is just relieved he hadn't imagined Rebecca since that night - he was starting to worry he was either just as crazy as she was, or he quite possibly had a brain tumor.

He takes a few steps in before falling forward, collapsing on the bed. He is exhausted - the reunion with Josh went on for a few more hours, eventually with WhiJo and Hector joining up with them. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed those jerks until he was actually sitting with them in a booth, laughing and reminiscing.

Although, it did take some convincing for Hector to come into the bar. He was certain Greg had caught wind of the fact that he is now dating Heather and thought Greg was here to 'kick his ass.' Once he'd finally convinced Hector he was happy for him, they actually had a really good night.

Even still, this day had been long and emotional and exhausting, and he was happy to be in a bed.

He hugs onto his pillow, rolling over and facing his nightstand. He sees the clock blinking back at him: 4 pm.

But even though it's only 4 here, it's already 8 pm in Georgia, and Greg's eyelids feel heavy. There are a few take-out menus by the phone, and he picks them up and thumbs through them out of boredom and curiosity. He stops on one, pulling it out of the stack and staring at it. It's for delivery fondue.

He remembers the night that he ended up at Rebecca's house, cleaning up the mess she'd made of her glass-sliding door. She offered him some take-out that was sitting on her dining room table. He remembers the logo, big and red: Fondue Me.

He remembers, even more, the name Josh scrawled across the bag. She had told him that night she couldn't be alone that night. But his ego and his heart couldn't take the fact that if he pursued things with Rebecca, he'd always get second billing to Josh Chan.

So... he left.

Just like he left her at home after he took her home from the hospital.

Just like he left her at Jayma's wedding.

...Just like he left at the airport.

Greg realizes… he's been really good at leaving. He begins to see more and more the errors of his ways in the demise of his relationship with Rebecca, and a lot of it stemmed from low-self-esteem and insecurity. If he had it to do over, he would have done things so differently.

He flicks off the light, glad that the curtains are drawn and the room is cool, and he can drift off to sleep easily.

He must have only been asleep for a few moments when he feels something - lips? - on his lips. Someone's kissing him. He can see Rebecca through the darkness, feel her hand snaking up his shirt and the other pulling him to her - gripping. Needing. She always needed too much. Always demanded.

"Reb- Rebecca," he mumbles against her lips. She whimpers in response as he tries to pull from her, "what are you- what are you doing here?"

She pulls from him, reaching over him and clicking on the light. She comes into view and she blinks at him a few times with those big, innocent eyes.

"What does it look like I'm doing here?" she asks, her voice ragged. Her hand begins to roam down his abdomen, tugging at the waist of his jeans. She pushes forward, her lips pressing against his neck as she murmurs against his skin, "you came here for me. You deserve to be rewarded."

Greg leans into her lips, her hot breath. He lets himself be kissed by her, he melts into her and prays this isn't a dream.

But he knows it is. He's always been a heavy sleeper, but right now he feels like he's wavering in and out of a dream and reality.

"Rebecca," he whispers. "Rebecca stop." His hand reaches down to hers and he takes her wrist, keeping her from roaming down further. She rolls to her side, propping up her head with her hand and facing him.

He stares at her, and for the life of him he cannot figure out just what it is about this woman that he can't seem to get enough of. He misses her. He needs to be honest with himself about that. He didn't come here to visit his friends or see his dad… he came here to see her. He needs to admit it.

"I've really missed you," he confesses, and her eyebrows pull together and her eyes gloss, and she looks astonished that anyone would ever say that to her. That's one thing that always drove Greg crazy about Rebecca. She made it so easy, her bar was set so low. He recalls offering her the last salad roll and she treated it as a declaration of love.

Rebecca just so desperately wanted to be loved, well and often. He should have loved her harder. He should have loved her as hard as she loved him.

He doesn't care that she isn't real - his lips find hers easily and it feels like home.

They pull away, slowly, and she just smiles at him.

"I'm right here," she answers to his I miss you.

Greg awakens suddenly from his restless sleep. She's gone, and somehow three hours have passed.

He knows for sure there's no other option: He needs to go to the hospital. He needs to stop being afraid.

He needs to see her.


Greg steps into the clean, sterile air of the hospital and he immediately thinks of the last time he was here - it was when Rebecca had collapsed and everyone found out about their secret, little love affair they'd had going on.

Or, more specifically, he remembers it as the beginning of their end.

He can't help think about the way things had now come full circle. And despite actively trying not to, he catches himself wondering if this could set the stage for a new beginning.

He shakes the thought away quickly because he meant what he said to Josh: that he and Rebecca are done for good. They have to be. He isn't strong enough to carry her and she isn't well enough to be with him.

They would destroy each other, just as they always have. But he still wants to see for himself that she is okay. He owes it to himself, if anything.

Greg passes the gift shop but backtracks when he sees something all-too-familiar. There by the front desk, among all the other balloons, is the same one he'd gotten her before - Jesus riding a unicorn over a rainbow: The turducken of sympathy balloons.

He can't stop himself, he has to buy it. For old time's sake. He can give it to her, they can laugh. It will be a good icebreaker.

He buys the balloon without a second thought, happily heading over to the nurse's station to ask what room she's in.

"Visiting hours are almost over," the unimpressed nurse tells him, never taking her eyes off of her computer screen. Greg glances up at the clock: 7:47 pm.

"Uh-huh. And I still have ten minutes so…. Rebecca Bunch?" he repeats. She stares back at him, but when she realizes he isn't going anywhere she rolls her eyes and brings the clipboard onto the counter.

"Sign here," she instructs, handing him a sticker that says "visitor." Greg scribbles out his name in a hurry, and she tells him, "Room 306." Greg goes to thank her but chokes on his own words - Rebecca is in the same room number that he's in back at the hotel.

While this is quite coincidental, he's hardly even surprised by things like this anymore. It's just another sign that he's making the right decision. So he hurries down the hallway and over to the elevator, pressing the button about thirty times until the elevator finally gets there. It feels like it's taking a small eternity to get to her. And instead of pure dread, Greg is excited.

He gets out and scans the rooms, following the long corridor down until there it is: Room 306. She's right on the other side of that door. He wonders if she's going to be happy to see him?

Greg peeks into the room and sees her, she's resting peacefully in her bed. She looks so small, so broken. She's asleep. He wants to reach for the door handle, but he suddenly loses his nerve.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he hears, and when he turns, there's Paula. She huffs, rolling her eyes the moment she sees Greg standing at the door, looking in at Rebecca. He turns to face her just as she comes stomping up. "What is wrong with you? I know Josh is a bit thick, but I expected you to know better than to come here," she whisper-scolds him.

Greg's head whips back as though he's just been smacked, "Excuse me?"

Paula waves her hands at him, exasperatedly, "Look here, Mr. Tall-Dark-&-Handsome," she begins, and Greg tries to hold in the chuckle that wants to escape when he hears her still calling him that. "I know you think that coming here is going to make her feel better, but it's not. Rebecca is fragile! And you and Josh both have a hand in that-"

"Are you serious right now?" Greg nearly snaps, offended at the inference that he somehow had something to do with Rebecca's suicide attempt. "I'd love to take responsibility for this, but I have a pretty solid alibi given that I was almost 3,000 miles away and haven't talked to Rebecca in well over a year."

Paula rolls her eyes, her hands rising to her hips cattily, "You can't be here. Just like I told Josh-"

"Uh, with all due respect, that's different. I didn't leave Rebecca at the altar," Greg snaps back this time, his eyes narrowed and his face set like stone. Paula gets that crazy look in her crystal blue eyes he's seen before as she nears him, nearly gritting her teeth.

"No. You're right. You didn't," she says slowly, her glare burning into him. "No, You left her at the airport." Greg's jaw unhinges and his heart sinks - that one stung. He swallows hard. "And who was here to clean up the mess you left behind?" she asks, but then immediately answers, "Me. That's who. So you don't get to just ride in on your white horse and nurse her back to health. You don't get to be the knight in shining armor. You left."

"At least I came back," Greg counters, but Paula's head falls back in laughter. He feels just face wince and his eyebrows pull together as he watches her. "What?"

"Yeah, you came back. How does your girlfriend feel about that, by the way?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"Oh don't even try it," Paula's hand comes up to halt him. Her eyes are wide and buggy again as she tells him, "Rebecca told me allll about it yesterday. She ran into Marco the night you butt-dialed her-"

"Butt-dialed her?"

"-Yeah. And then she ran into your dad, and he told her you fell in love with a girl from your class and were happier than ever. Next thing I know, she jumps a plane and ends up in the hospital. So I think maybe aside from Josh, the last person she needs to see right now is you."

Greg's stomach drops. All this time he had felt like he had something to do with what happened to Rebecca, but convinced himself there was no way. He'd been gone for too long - how could he blame himself?

Well, somehow, he still did have something to do with it. And it makes him sick to his stomach.

All because when he left, he had put together a fool-proof contingency plan to make sure he didn't backslide: he instructed his dad that if he ever ran into Rebecca, no matter what was actually going on with Greg, he was to tell her he was A) happy B) sober and C) doing well.

Leave it to Marco to improvise and add a fake girlfriend in the mix. He just didn't want Rebecca to swoop in and ruin progress Greg was making - but at what cost?

The thought alone makes him sad. But Greg doesn't do sad very well. So he resorts to what he's good at: being angry. Paula storms passed him and Greg feels his fingers clench into fists. As much as he tries to suck it up and be the bigger person, he's fuming inside.

"Keeping Rebecca all to yourself again, are you?" he wonders facetiously, and Paula freezes in her tracks. She turns to scowl at him again, "that's the way you like it, right? You like to mother her and coddle her. I get it."

"What are you trying to say?" she practically hisses.

Greg shrugs, "Maybe I'm trying to say all this enabling bullshit you do in her life is part of the reason she's laying in that hospital bed-"

"Oh, please," she scoffs waving him off. "That's ridiculous-"

"Is it? Because I seem to recall you standing behind every single scheme or mess Rebecca has gotten herself into since she first moved here. You feed into her delusions because you don't want to fix all the things that are wrong in your own life. So do me a favor and don't point fingers at me until you take a good, hard, look in the mirror."

"Get out!" she nearly shouts, but lowers her voice when she notices a nurse shooting her a glare. "You need to leave. Now."

"Happy to," he seethes back.

"I did those things because I love Rebecca!" Paula adds, calling out to his back. "Which is more than I can say for you, Greg." She spits out his name like it's a bad word. He turns again, running his hand down his face, exasperatedly. He just stares at her; her cheeks are flushed and her chest is rising and falling. She's close to tears.

"I love Rebecca," he says to her, simply. He surprises himself when it doesn't come out in past tense. He sucks in a breath, "I will always love Rebecca. But thanks to you, then and now, she will never know that. Because no one gets past Paula unless Paula says so. You made up your mind about me the moment you met me. I didn't stand a chance."

"If you loved her so much, why did you leave her, huh?" she asks him, her voice cracking.

"I loved her enough to let her go," Greg tells her, his voice low and soft. Her eyebrows and shoulders slouch, "and I loved her enough to come back."

The two stand facing each other, their defenses lowered, but still at a stalemate. Greg sighs, running a hand through his hair. He hands the balloon out, offering it to Paula. "Here. Give her this. Let her know I was here. Or don't. I don't really have a right to be making demands here."

Paula takes the balloon slowly, hesitantly. Greg shoves his hands in his pockets, "good to see you, Paula," he says, turning to head back to the hotel.

Maybe he was wrong - wrong about everything.

Maybe coming back to West Covina was a mistake.


To be continued...